The Sound of Your Voice
by fille avec le foulard
Summary: At 9 Edward lost his ability to hear. Teenage life was challenging enough, but what happens when Bella Swan a mysterious, joyful  girl comes into his life? Suddenly he would face all the difficulties again just to hear the sound of her voice.
1. Chapter 1

T H E. S O U N D. O F. Y O U R. V O I C E

Chapter 1

Esme and Carlisle Cullen lay well awake in their large bed though it was well past one in the morning. Earlier had been a peaceful, normal night; their son Edward had retreated to his room with a curt nod goodnight before the couple enjoyed a glass of wine, then made their way to bed. Carlisle looked upon his wife of sixteen years with adoration as she appeared in the doorway of their bathroom.

She was just as stunning as the day he had noticed her in the coffee shop on Yale's campus. Over the years fine lines, barely noticeable had begun to appear at the corner of her eyes and her body had became softer from carrying their child, but still she was undeniably stunning. No one had really noticed these changes, aside from Carlisle; he knew her face like there was a picture of it framed and sitting at the forefront of his mind.

Esme gracefully made her way across the cool bamboo floor, twisting her hair up on top of her head displaying her neck that her husband often told her he adored. She slipped under the cool sheets and brought herself closer to Carlisle. She sighed with content as she turned her body towards his, resting her head on his shoulder, placing her hand on his chest, and warming her toes by his feet. She enjoyed the warmth that he radiated, and his presence made here feel safe and at peace.

She tilted her head up from the resting place on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Although she knew he had shaved that morning while she was moisturizing her legs, she could already feel a slight roughness at his chin.

"Highs and lows?" She asked gently

Carlisle let out a soft, "hmm…" to indicate to her that he was thinking since he knew she couldn't see his facial expression in the dark.

This was a tradition that they had started the day they returned home with Edward Anthony Mason Cullen from St. Lukes hospital 17 years ago. They both had declared that the high point of the day was having Edward home, holding him in their arms before proceeding to agree that the day had been so perfect there could not possibly be a low point of the day.

"My low," Carlisle said, "was telling a family their youngest child was diagnosed with cancer," he paused briefly before muttering under his breath, "_God,_ that was awful."

Esme waited patiently knowing the best thing to do when her husband discussed the difficult parts of his job, was to do nothing at all but sit patiently, showing him her understanding of his pain through her expressive grey eyes. Sometimes she would offer a sympathetic hand squeeze or shoulder pat, only offering advice when it was sought.

"My high is right now with you," he said placing his right hand on top of the hand Esme was resting on his chest. "I cherish these seemingly insignificant moments with you."

Esme smiled to herself in the dark. She never understood how couples could drift apart so easily after a few years of marriage. From the day they met they were in love. Esme had been wary the first time Carlisle approached her while she was ordering a latte after a late night physics cram session, but it only took a few minutes of his charming manner to before she was utterly smitten. Carlisle often liked to tell stories about how his smooth moves made Esme fall at his feet with love and adoration. Upon hearing these stories Esme would cluck her tongue, smile, and make a remark along the lines of, "that's how _he_ remembers it," before launching into a more truthful description of the first night they had met.

The truth of the matter was that Carlisle did not have one single "smooth move" up his sleeve. Surprisingly that was what Esme found completely cute and disarming about him. Although she was studying and living at Yale, the lack of intelligence and creativity most of the Yale men possessed about impressing a woman was completely non-existent. Her simple beauty had attracted the attention of many young men, and she was often fed stupid lines like, "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven," and "Has anyone told you have the most beautiful eyes?"

Upon being approached by Carlisle she had heaved a frustrated sigh. Turning around to face _another_ guy who was trying to pick her up. She had started to voice that she was not interested, but had paused when she saw a youthful boy who's hair was not slicked back in an obnoxious manner and who wasn't wearing Italian leather loafers. Instead Carlisle's crumpled khakis and well-worn polo had piqued her interest and his incoherent bumbling, which she later learned was his attempt at asking to pay for her beverage and sit for a moment.

"I beg your pardon, would you mind repeating that?" she said realizing that she had not heard any of his words.

He took a deep breath for courage. "Would you be so kind as to let me… um… pay for your drin—your coff—your beverage? And possibly… keep me company at that table over there?" He diverted his eyes to a small crumb covered table in the corner of the shop.

Esme thought about how disheveled and totally nervous he was. Despite what people had spread through the rumor mill, she was not a cold hearted bitch that felt no piece of man that approached her was good enough. She nodded and agreed more out of sympathy than out of wanting to actually spend time with him.

Carlisle had smiled at her answer, pulled a few crumpled bills out before placing them on the counter and escorting her to the table.

Esme was still unaware to the day that while escorting her to the table he had slyly bumped fists with his friend Aro as he passed by the table he and his best friend had been sitting at before he approached her. Esme didn't notice Carlisle's best friend smiling widely, proud that he had talked Cullen into asking out the pretty girl with the auburn hair.

As Carlisle pulled out the chair for Esme they were both silent. They sat at the table the loudness of the words they were not exchanging filling their ears. In attempt to break the awkwardness they both hurriedly asked, "So what do you study?" They shared a smile.

"You go first," she had said.

"I uh, study biology." Carlisles cheeks flushed. Usually the guys that got girls like Esme were studying things like business and finance, something that guaranteed a six-figure salary upon graduating from Yale.

Esme's eyes glinted with recognition. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I recognize your face, you were in the newspaper about studying the brains of carrier pigeons."

Carlisle's cheeks reddened, "I didn't think anyone read that section of the paper," he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

Esme's warm smile returned to her face again, "Being a science major myself, it is kind of required that I read and enjoy all science related material."

"What do you…" his question trailed off.

"I'm a physics major."

To say he was surprised was an understatement. He hated to classify people by their majors, or their subjects of preference but the girl in front of him seemed far too _normal _and_ pretty_ for physics. The girls he had met from that department were all very nice, but they were not the most stunning group to say the least.

The way his eyes lit up when he was excited, and the way his eyebrows knit together when he was thinking wad adorable to Esme. They chatted until the coffee shop employees began to mop the floors and place the hairs on top of the tables around them. They both broke out of their trance with each other realizing the activity around them. Carlisle lingered as he walked Esme out the door. Under the street lamp he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Seeing his unease Esme asked the question for him.

"I think you are a marvelous conversationalist, could I contact you perhaps…?" She had wanted to use his name but then realized under the bright light swarming with small night bugs that she had never learned his name. Nor had he hers.

"My name is Esme."

"Esme," he repeated softly. He liked the way it rolled of his tongue. It suited her. He hadn't realized that she was waiting for him to tell her his name until she coughed politely.

"Oh, he said blushing once more, I'm Carlisle—Carlisle Cullen of Peet."

Esme grimaced slightly, but quickly replaced it with smile. Peet dorm rooms were not known for being spacious abodes.

"Well Carlisle, Carlisle Cullen of Peet is was a pleasure meeting you," she said before quickly sweeping in to give him a peck on the cheek and turning to walk to her sorority house. Esme would never know this but that night Carlisle Cullen had walked back to his shitty dorm room with an undeniable swagger in his step.

"Honey? Honey?" Carlisle repeated himself a few times before bringing his wife out of her trip down memory lane.

"Oh sorry, what did you say?"

"I was asking about your highs and lows of the day," he replied, happy that she had not yet fallen asleep.

"Oh my low was at the drycleaners today. They still didn't manage to get that stain out of my Ralph Lauren pantsuit," she huffed slightly.

Carlisle chuckled to himself, "And what about your high?"

"Oh that's easy," she replied, "when you left for work early this morning I made Edward dinosaur shaped pancakes. You know, the ones he would always eat when he was little as he tried to figure out which dinosaur was the T Rex and which was the Stegosaurus."

"I remember the ones," Carlisle assured.

"He acted as if he was too old for them, but I know he enjoyed it. I just love interacting with him. He's the perfect child when he's not in pain over his … shortcomings." Her voice cracked slightly at her last word and Carlisle gripped her hand tighter.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

"I love you too."

Those were the last words they spoke as they settled in for the night's rest. They pulled each other in tighter, never letting go as their breaths evened and slowed into a calm sleeping state.

A few hours later Carlisle and Esme sprang bolt upright as they heard large bangs and crashes coming from the opposite end of the house. It took a few seconds for them to realize that the sounds they were hearing were not the warning sounds of a burglar or criminal. They were the harsh sounds of a hurting soul taking out frustrations on black and ivory keys of the glossy Steinway that sat in their living room.

They both sighed, not in frustration or anger that they had been awaken from their peaceful slumber only minutes before one in the morning, but they sighed because they were both heartbroken that they did not know how to relieve the pain of their only child, the only other person besides each other that they lived and breathed for.

"Do you want to go down this time, or should I?" Carlisle rubbed at his eyes.

"I'll go this time, Sweetie. Go back to sleep you have some early procedures tomorrow morning. I can handle it." Esme placed a reassuring hand on Carlisle's cheek before sliding out of bed and pulling her robe on.

As she walked down the stairs and through the hallways of the large dark house, the sounds grew louder, more violent, and heart renching.

She saw her son sitting on the tufted leather bench frustration in his frown and beads of sweat starting to prick at his forehead. She waited for a few minutes knowing that he would be easier to pry away from the keys once he had the opportunity to let out a little bit of frustration. She didn't clear her throat or try to make her presence known because it was futile. She slowly walked up to Edward hoping to catch his eye, but it was useless. He was too drawn in to the hot rage being created by every force of the piano keys. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, but he didn't stop. He continued with more force and ferver than before.

"Edward, sweetheart…" Esme would not allow the tears to fall. She was his mother and holding such a title meant that she was supposed to be strong in his times of weakness. She tried again. "Edward, sweetie…" this time she lightly pried his hands off the piano. With the abrupt halt of the notes she could now hear his heavy panting. She tugged his hands lightly trying to encourage him to go up to his room and get a good night—or mornings rest.

"Edward, let's go to your room, you need your sleep, Sweetheart." As she gently prompted him to go up to his bedroom she knew her words were pointless. For Edward, the joy of her life, her reason for existing, the one thing in the world that made her the happiest couldn't hear her. No matter how much the Cullen family tried, doctors had told them again and again that there was no way to cure her son's deafness.

* * *

><p><strong>This is a story I wrote a long time ago. I stumbled upon it in my Word documents and decided I would stop being embarrassed about it, edit and clean it up some more and then publish it. I would love a review or love or hate!<strong>

**P.S. If there are any grammatical mistakes, sorry…even though I tried to tidy it up a bit. If I decide to continue fixing up and posting this story I will be in desperate need of a Beta.**


	2. Chapter 2

T H E. S O U N D. O F. Y O U R. V O I C E

Chapter 2

Isabella Swan looked out her new bedroom window. She didn't have any opinions formed yet. She was a firm believer in waiting to see the entire picture before taking a position on whether or not she liked something. She admired the low angular ceiling of her new bedroom. And decided she liked it. Charlie had offered her a nice spacious room that was not in the attic, but she kindly turned down the offer because she preferred the solace of the charming getaway in the house.

She decided that she might as well learn to love her new place of residence because it was a new start for her, and she wanted it to start off well. Bella had lived in Forks, Washington with her mother, Renee and father, Charlie until the young couple could no longer make the marriage last. Renee was a more free spirited person who enjoyed living her life with little to no plan, while Charlie often found comfort in patterns and routine. They were both able to keep a civil friendship for the sake of their only child and therefore they both decided to live separately but remain in the same town. While Charlie remained complacent in the small three bed two bath home, Renee and Bella had moved into a small but nice apartment complex.

Isabella at the age of twelve took her parents divorce well.

"We love you honey, but we just couldn't make it work," was what her mother had told her.

"I understand," Bella would normally respond, "These things happen, love and romance can't last forever."

Renee was saddened that that seemed to be the lesson that her young daughter had learned, but didn't push her anymore, fearful that Bella would snap.

As months turned into years living in the apartment Bella grew rather satisfied with where she lived. Most of her friends lived in normal homes where the mother would stay at home and the father would come home late from work, but Bella never wished for that. She didn't miss the hushed arguments between her parents that she would overhear when they thought she was sleeping, and she defiantly did not miss the looks on her mother's face of longing to do something that went against her monotonous daily patterns. Bella enjoyed and appreciated what she had.

Renee being the young single mother in the building had interested many tenants. Often times older women would stop by bringing baked goods or lasagna that would last them the week. Sometimes Bella spent time down the hall at Sue's house learning to cook meals and bake treats that did not originate from packaged boxes. Renee especially had appreciated these kind gestures over the years because she couldn't cook anything that wasn't meant to go in a microwave.

After three years of living in their apartment Bella had started to sense a shift in the overall dynamic of their household. Suddenly the place was starting to be kept in a cleanlier state without any effort on Bella's behalf, food was appearing more regularly in the house, and Renee was wearing clothes other than yoga pants and sweatshirts, and staying out a bit later than normal.

"Mom, what is going on?"

Renee wanted to play the dumb game, but Bella was far too smart and perceptive for it. Instead she opted to try and skirt around the question.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Bella stated, "why have you been acting so odd for the last two months?"

"I—I … Bella, honey, what do you think about me seeing someone?"

"Seeing someone for what?" Bella had grown so content with her life, the thought anything changing hadn't even occurred to her. She hadn't really thought about the fact that her mom may be lonely, and that there were certain voids not even she could fill.

"I mean, what do you think if I was to start dating someone?"

Bella studied her mother's hopeful face for a moment. "You say this like you already have someone in mind."

"I do," Renee admitted, "and he's very nice, he's a major league baseball player."

Bella grimaced. At the age of seventeen Bella was worried that a baseball player was not exactly the most suitable choice for a potential spouse for her mother. Bella was hoping that Renee would find a man who was kind and responsible, maybe a banker. She wasn't fond of an irresponsible athlete being in Renee's life. Renee, Bella decided, needed some stability. Bella would be going off to college next year, and had no intention of staying in state just to be able to take care of her mother.

"Why don't I invite him over for dinner tonight and you can meet him. I know you'll like him, Bells, I wouldn't even dare think of anything serious with him if I thought there was a possibility you wouldn't like him. I promise."

Bella decided to keep an open mind, and not make up her mind about him until she had met this Phil guy. It was ironic that the pleading looks of "can I go out with him?" were coming from the mother, and not the daughter.

That evening Renee had stopped at a local Whole Foods to pick up a roast chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, and mac & cheese.

After years of living with Renee, Bella knew the drill. While her mother was out shopping Bella tidied up the living room, removed all feminine objects from sight in the bathroom, and placed some pots in the kitchen sink. When Renee returned from the store she would go to her bedroom to get dressed, while Bella would place the food on serving plates and discard all evidence of store containers.

When the guest arrived and Renee opened the door, the effect would always be perfect. I tidy home with a few dirty cooking pans in the sink, and an apron tied around Renee's waist to make her look like she was the talented homemaker that she in fact was not. Renee had never slaved away in the kitchen. Usually kitchen time was spent pour cereal or making avocado face masks.

The first time Renee had pulled this little stunt, she had gotten a disapproving look from her daughter.

"What?" she exclaimed, "Don't and say you did is my motto. It makes life a hell of a lot easier." She then laughed to herself and Bella could not help but join in and appreciate the antics of her mother.

Hearing a knock at the door Renee jumped with delight. "Oh that's him!" She adjusted her blouse and smoothed down her hair.

Bella sighed. _He must be some guy to get her to behave this way._

Bella stood in the kitchen listening to her mother exchange hugs and kisses with the man she had invited in.

"You will love her," Bella heard her mother say to him in hushed tones.

As the two appeared around the corner Bella took him in his tall frame. _He looks clean… that's always a good sign. _

"It's mighty nice to meet you Miss Bella. I've heard so much about you." He stuck out his large hand and she politely took it.

They ate a delicious dinner with Renee chatting up a storm and Bella and Phil making conversation in the moments that Renee had stopped talking to take a breath.

As the dinner wound down Renee offered to clear the plates and take them into the kitchen.

"You made a wonderful dinner, Renee. It's rare I get a home cooked meal," he said turning to Bella, "with work we always eat on the road, and I can't really cook myself." He smiled

_Oh if only he knew the truth about his "home cooked meal"_

Renee left the kitchen table to soak the dishes.

Phil leaned closer to Bella, "Whole Foods has outdone themselves again," he whispered conspiratorially.

Bella laughed loudly at his statement.

"What's so funny," Renee asked returning to the table, happy that Bella and Phil were getting along.

"Oh nothing," Bella replied, "Phil here just told me a funny joke."

Phil winked at Bella, and she decided there that he was an acceptable companion for her mother. Had it been Bella in Phil's shoes, she would have straight out asked where the hidden green Whole Foods containers were. Bella appreciated that Phil was kind enough to roll along with Renee's punches and accept her lack of culinary skills as they were, rather than mentioning them to her.

Before leaving for the night Phil handed Bella a square package that was poorly wrapped. _At least their domestic skills are on the same level_.

"You're mother told me you have an interest in birds…so…" he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Bella ripped open the package while Phil and Renee stood expectantly a few feet away.

It was fine leather bound book with detailed watercolor images of birds that had to be hand painted. To the right of the image were the common name, scientific name, facts about the bird's calls, diet, and habitat.

She was so entranced with the text in her hand she forgot to look up and thank Phil for his kind gift.

Phil cleared his throat, "There were a few more like it at the store, if you already have this one or something…"

"No," she looked up and smiled, "This is wonderful. Thank you." She walked over and wrapped her slender arms around his large frame.

Renee smiled giddily to herself thankful that their first meeting had gone so well.

Nearly one month from that dinner Renee and Phil were married in a small ceremony on a beautiful California beach. Although Phil could afford a million dollar wedding Renee insisted otherwise. A few famous athletes were there along with five or six family members from each side and couple of close friends Renee and Bella had made from living in the apartment building. The couple didn't wear shoes, Renee wore a simple dress she had found a days earlier at JCrew, and it couldn't have been more perfect. A few times Bella had seen some of the wedding photos in some glossy magazines but nothing major. Although Phil was a world-class athlete he was well respected for his dedication to the game and preference for a quiet personal life.

After the wedding Bella had to make some choices about her living arrangements. Both Phil and Renee expressed that they would be genuinely happy with any choice to make.

Bella reasoned that she should live with Charlie in their old home while Phil was working. Bella couldn't bare the idea of splitting the new couple up just so she could live happily with her mother, and felt that with only a year before she left for college it was wise that she spend more time with her father.

"When will we get to see you then?" Her mother had asked.

Bella thought for a moment. "I'll see you guys whenever you guys stay in Washington, and at the end of the school year I'll take a road trip down to California to stay with you guys before I go to college. It will be hard at first, but I think that's what's best."

The next day Phil and Renee had taken Bella to the airport there was a knot of apprehension in her stomach.

As she stood on the curb under the American Airlines sign her mother gave her a tight hug. "If you need _anything_ call us," Renee had said before wiping away a tear.

"If you decide you don't like it, you know there's always room for you in California," Phil said. He cleared his throat, "There's also a little gift waiting at Charlie's house from your mother and I."

Bella rolled her eyes. She knew Phil was not trying to buy her love and approval, but had a constant need to take care of her and her mother. Bella inwardly chastised herself for being annoyed that someone was just looking out for her.

"Thanks Phil," she had said before giving him a hug, "Please take care of my mom for me," she whispered into his ear. He responded by patting her back reassuringly.

As she sat on the plane taking her back to Washington from California she wondered what this year with Charlie would be like. She would no be living with a man again. Would he be strict and parental? Bella was not used to having rules set for her, and she wasn't sure if she would like it. She thought about the new school she would be attending. There was not a great need to switch, but this school was closer to Charlie's house, and it was also a lot more academically prestigious than the public school she had attended before. Bella was intelligent and could have gone to the school when she was living with her mother, but didn't want the stress of the commute or the expensive tuition to stress out her mother. But now that Phil had come into their life, the tuition was the least of their problems and Phil had also included a large donation for the school to overlook that Bella would be entering as a new student during her senior year.

Bella had never really worried about fitting in before, but now with all these changes going on she couldn't imagine what the puzzle was going to end up looking like. Already she started to feel that she had made a mistake, and was rethinking giving up Phil's spacious house and the California sun. Bella snuggled deeper into her first class seat (courtesy of Phil) and went to sleep trying to escape the feeling of dread that approached as the plane neared closer to her new home.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I HATE authors notes so I'll try and make this super quick. I found myself a prereader and a beta thanks to im2sexy4's recommendation. Currently I'm working on building up a backlog of chapters and then releasing them later. I just wanted to publish this first beta/preread chapter for feedback, and as a thanks for your reviews. I'm defiantly not quitting on this story.**

The Sound of Your Voice

Chapter 3

Edward lay on the wooden floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. This is what he usually did on Friday mornings when summer alleviated the burden of school; he would just lay, and be, thinking without the pressure of trying to communicate his thoughts to others. He chose the floor as his place of rest because that was where he could best feel the vibrations coming from the rather expensive stereo system his parents had purchased him many years ago as a birthday gift. This particular morning he had chosen to absorb the feeling of Andrea Bocelli's Romanza album.

He didn't care that his friends, Emmett and Jasper, had labeled the music as "girly shit." He had carried an appreciation of all music classical from the day he was born. Seemingly every parent plays classical music to their unborn or newborn child, all afraid to take the risk of their child having less than desirable mental aptitude. Esme and Carlisle had been no different, even at such a young age to be parents. They never took chances when it came to Edward.

No matter how much his only friends had taunted him, he simply enjoyed the music too much to care what they thought. That, and the fact that if he did decide to ditch Emmett and Jasper, he had no other options for friends.

Jasper and Edward had met through the prep school they both attended. Jasper's mom was hearing impaired, and sign language was a must for his household. On numerous occasions there were days where Jasper never had to speak a word, and thus communicating with Edward came easily.

Emmett went to Fork's High, the local public school, but lived within walking distance. He was adopted as a toddler, and his other siblings born from the parents, had severe hearing problems along with the father. While they could use hearing aids to make life a bit easier, the problem was too serious, and talking was usually shouting. Therefore for Emmett, sign language was also the chosen method of communication.

As Edward rested on his back with his arms drawn behind his neck, he thought about what it would be like going to college next year. How was he supposed to navigate his way around a new city?

_At least if worse comes to worse_,_ can just write or lip read…thank God I'm not blind too. _

He sighed as his mind continued to wander. What about girls?

_Who wants to date the handicap kid?_

Edward privately mourned that he would never be able to have sex with a girl and hear the sound she made when she came undone.

Emmett for the past few months had been sleeping with his girlfriend of two years, Rosalie. He had said, or signed rather, that the noises she made were better than porn and football combined. Both Jasper and Edward had rolled their eyes at this comparison, but Edward couldn't help the pang of despair he felt because he would never get to have that same experience.

Edward had experienced the pleasure of kissing girls, but they never dared to take it further. None of them wanted to get into anything too hot and heavy with a guy who couldn't say their names without sounding like a retard.

As the song on the stereo changed and the beat of the music vibration switched, he noticed his door opening slowly and saw his mother appear in his doorway.

She smiled kindly at him, hating to disturb his peace.

After an incident of her walking in on him masturbating to a _Hustler_ magazine, they had developed a system, if the door was unlocked, his parents were welcome to enter. If the door was locked, it meant he sought privacy. Just in case though, there was a system set up through the entire household computers where his parents could send him a message that would flash on his computer screen to grab his attention.

As much as Edward hated to admit it, he desperately enjoyed his mother's company. He loved it when she hugged him good-bye or kissed his cheek, leaving a small bit of lipstick behind. Often times, he would break the embrace before she would or swipe at his face, but he never had asked her not to do it.

Although he felt relaxed from the beat of the classical music, his muscles loosened even more when his mother laid next to him,wrapping an arm around him in a protective embrace.

She smelled like mint and rosemary from the kitchen with an undertone of Chanel perfume that his dad always purchased for her. Edward hated to think of such things, but he knew that even after his mother was gone he would never be able to smell those herbs or walk by a women's perfume counter without thinking of her. Esme pinched his nose then kissed his cheek.

She always loved his nose. To her, it would always be that precious baby nose that was rosy pink when she had brought him back from the hospital. The apartment they lived in when Edward was a baby was rather downtrodden, and a far cry from the palatial mansion they currently resided in. But even so, Carlisle and Esme never minded with their new child there to brighten their lives.

She turned his head to face hers. "Are you hungry?" she mouthed.

Edward didn't realize he was until she mentioned it. His morning appreciation of music had turned into the evening without realizing it. He quickly glanced out of the floor to ceiling windows behind him, and noticed that the sun was going down and a layer of darkness was beginning to settle. His thoughts that had carried him to a faraway place, combined with his drifting in and out of sleep, had turned him completely ignorant to his growing appetite.

"What are we having?" he signed.

Not wanting to release him from her hold, she responded by saying, "Pot roast, green beans, and potatoes."

"What about dessert?" he asked with a gleam in eye.

Esme knew that her boy had an ever-growing sweet tooth and appetite for anything sugar and butter based.

"Pudding," she replied.

The corners of his lips pulled downwards into a frown. _What kind of dessert is pudding?_

Esme laughed lightly. "I'm joking. I made an apple pie and got some ice cream."

Edward nodded in approval. _Now that's more like it!_

They both rose to their feet. Edward headed to the bathroom to wash his hands and face while Esme went to alert her husband, who was undoubtedly working in his office.

As they sat around the dinner table, they held hands and bowed their heads to say grace. The Cullens weren't a particularly religious family, but Esme always said she had to thank somebody, whoever or wherever they were, for the perfect life she had. When they lifted their heads, Edward's hands immediately reached for the pie. Without saying a word, Esme shot him a look. Edward sighed before putting the pie knife down and reaching for the pot roast instead.

Carlisle and Esme chatted quietly, not bothering to include Edward in the conversation since he was far too focused on the food in front of him. He was famished and couldn't cut the meat fast enough shovel into his mouth. Instead had opted to leave his knife on the table, spear the large piece of meat, and take gigantic animal like bites out of it.

His parents rolled their eyes.

"Do you think we should get him a feeding trough?" Carlisle asked deadpan.

Esme laughed. "Of course not, honey. A feeding trough would be far too civilized for him." They both chuckled at their joke.

As Edward started slowing down, he became more interested in conversing with his parents. Carlisle spoke about an interesting procedure he had done that day, some parts he knew Edward could lip-read, and other parts he signed. Edward enjoyed the story almost as much as he had enjoyed half of the apple pie his mom had baked.

Preparing for bed, Edward stared at himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth. His hair was an abnormal copper tone, which he thought resembled the pipes plumbers often used. It was styled neatly with a side part, the hairstyle of someone responsible and trustworthy, the hairstyle of a mama's boy. He had at one point tried to make it look effortlessly messy, applying a small amount of his mother's hair products to the roots, but he had only managed to make himself look like a wet dog and smell like a woman.

As he continued to study his face he came to the conclusion that his skin was too pale for his liking. It was because of all the time he spent indoors. Being outside usually meant running into people you knew and saying hi, or stopping for polite chit-chat. He hated polite chit-chat, which seemed annoyingly unavoidable. Because of his parents' good standing, and his avoidance of trouble, adults liked him and always made a point to say "hello" in the drug store or wave to him at the gas station.

His father was a well-respected doctor that cared for many of the town's residents, and his mother was a chemist and owner of an upscale cosmetics company. Esme often handed out gift baskets with her products as holiday treats to the women in their neighborhood, and thus had become a favorite among many. It was surprising how a few pricey shampoos and lotions could shoot someone up to the top of people's favorite list.

Having taken part in enough vain self-reflections for a night, Edward rinsed his mouth and walked to his bed, stubbing a toe on one of his new textbooks that had arrived from Amazon. It only served as a reminder that the summer was winding down and the school year was quickly approaching. He had only two more days to idle away as he pleased without the stress of homework and exams.

He wished he could rewind time, but the thick books and school supplies, which Esme had written his name in with thick, black sharpie served as evidence that the days he dreaded were fast approaching.


	4. Chapter 4

The Sound of Your Voice

Chapter 4

Bella stood on the tip of her toes searching for her dads black Toyota 4Runner among the crowd of cars lined up in front of the local airport. Despite what people thought, her dad did not drive the attention grabbing, black and white cop car around town.

Not only had Charlie not felt comfortable with the idea, but driving anywhere in that damn car added an extra ten minutes to a trip. People had an odd way about them, forcing themselves to drive eight miles under the speed limit anytime a police car was within spitting distance.

Bella wrapped her wool scarf around her neck that was growing colder due to the wind. Although it was the end of August, it was Forks, and that meant that it was chillier than any summer day was meant to be. Pushing her hair back behind her ears she removed the strands that were sticking to her chapstick due to the wind's relentlessness. She looked up to see Charlie give her a broad wave to attract her attention.

Clasping the handle of her small carry on luggage, she through the crowd. It had only been three weeks since she dined with her father, but this greeting was so much more important than the ones in the past. Before she always knew if things became unbearable, which they never did, she'd at least be able to escape back to the apartment with her mother in a few hours. This time she was staying.

Charlie wrapped his arms around her petite body in a tight hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground due to the height difference "I've missed you so much," he said into her hair, "How was California?"

"It was warm."

He chuckled lightly as he pushed her bag into the backseat before walking around to the drives side.

Getting into the warm car, Bella took of her hat and scarf. She buckled her seatbelt and sat quietly, then realized it was probably the polite thing to do to ask him how he was doing.

"So, Dad…how have you been?"

"Fine, you know me, doesn't take much to keep me happy."

Bella nodded in agreement, understanding how true this statement was. The few weekends when her mom had been out of town trying to launch her accessory collection in New York over the last year, Bella had stayed with Charlie. He was always nice and wanted her to feel at home, but it was obvious he was as clueless as a monkey in the desert when it came to parenting.

He tried, offered to spend the day with her, but Bella had always told him to enjoy his fishing, or encouraged him to watch the game at a friend's house.

All Bella ever really did for him was hem his pants, even though he hadn't asked her to, or baked him a nice pie which he never resisted. It was a simple relationship based on a silent understanding not to try to get too far into each other's business, then they would both be happy.

Charlie cleared his throat. "So how is your mother doing?"

"She's fine I guess. She seems happy with Phil."

"Is he nice?"

"Yeah. He's good for her. I'm not too worried. I know that the light bill won't be forgotten with him around."

Charlie always felt a slight pang of sadness when he thought about his ex-wife. Seeing her with Bella had always made a small part of him wish that he could have provided a more exciting life that would have kept her around, but deep down he knew that was not who he was.

They had gotten married straight out of high school, and Bella was born smack dab in the middle of their sophomore year of Forks Community College. They had both dropped out, deciding that finding jobs to pay the expenses of a baby was their top priority.

But seeing Renee with a major league baseball player reaffirmed that Charlie could never be what Renee wanted. She now had a life of flying around the country, going to parties, and not having to think twice when she really wanted to buy something. Now an extra thirty-dollar top from Macy's was not financially dangerous like it had been when they were together, struggling to make ends meet.

Charlie and Bella sat in a peaceful silence allowing the hum of the car heater and the sounds of soft rock fill their ears.

Pulling into the driveway of the small house, Bella noted that the place looked smaller than she remembered. While she saw Charlie regularly, they usually met at a restaurant or went bowling. She hadn't been back at the house in years. She supposed that the distorted size had to be because she had just grown up, and all things of great and important to her when she was younger shrank and became of less importance as the years passed on.

Charlie led the way to Bella's room. "Everything's just the same as you left. If you want to change anything let me know."

Bella nodded, figuring that she could readjust to her old room, but one look at it and she knew she would be taking Charlie up on his offer to redecorate.

The room looked like it belonged to one of those girls from the vomit educing show, Toddler's and Tiaras. There was pink. And lots of it. Barbie stickers adorned the walls and windows, a dinky, dusty, chandelier hung over her bed, and old ballet slippers were tacked above her desk that was covered in crayon drawings.

"I'll just leave you to get settled and unpacked then."

"Okay."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really. Thanks though."

"Okay, well… I'll be downstairs." Charlie turned and left her room.

Bella could hear his large frame going down the narrow steps, the sound of the refrigerator opening, a can being cracked, and then moments later the TV being turned on to a sports channel. His habits hadn't changed much, and for this she was glad.

She had expected a lecture on the house rules or something as equally monotonous, but Charlie was still Charlie.

Bella surveyed her room once more. Besides the sad trinkets of her past, was her bed and a few large brown boxes holding all her possessions that Phil had kindly dropped off before they all flew to California.  
>A large ribbon perched on top of a white box caught her eye. She maneuvered around the brown cardboard containers, and moved to her desk chair where it had been sitting.<p>

A note sat near it.

_Don't forget your mother and I are always one flight away_

It was obviously from Phil, she'd recognize his clumsy handwriting anywhere.

What Bella saw nearly had taken her breath away. A Jenome Memory Craft Sewing machine. A machine of the gods. She admired the shiny plastic, the velvety blue buttons and the electric touch screen that lit up when her finger made contact.

She enjoyed sewing but had stopped after the machine her grandmother had given her died. She would have been upset if she hadn't been so giddy over it. These retailed for over one thousand dollars, but from what she had read were worth every penny. With over 60 stitch options and a thousand stitch per minute rate, it was a dream. She smiled grazing her finger over the smooth shiny hood. Her eye caught another ribbon, this time attached to a substantial sized brown bag that had blended into the cardboard boxes. She couldn't possibly imagine what more she would need after a gift like this.

Inside were stacks of funky fabrics; suede, leather, silks, cotton, leopard prints, and a few rolls with swallows flying on different colored backgrounds. At the bottom of the bag sat needles threads and a pair of shiny silver scissors.

Bella sat down on her pink covered mattress smiling and for once not worrying about the changes in her life.

She quickly showered in the small bathroom down the hall and put on a large tee shirt that hit above her knees.

She dug through a couple cardboard boxes looking for a shirt she didn't care for before coming across one that said "Ripe" across the chest.

The machine was mesmerizing, but she didn't spend much time admiring it. Instead she nimbly threaded her new prized possession, then ran her provocative shirt through a few times testing out the different stitch patterns.

The purr of the motor was like taking a bite of triple chocolate cake—sensory overload. She enjoyed the vibrations of the table, and the hum of the machine as she worked away happily. By the time she looked up it was past midnight, but she felt alive knowing that the next few weeks would be filled with her retraining herself how to sew like a pro that she could have been if she had been properly equipped with a quality sewing machine years earlier.

The next day Bella woke up forgetting for a moment where she was. She took in her pink surroundings and shut her eyes once more. The bright floral colors were too much for her to handle so early in the morning.

She padded downstairs and looked in the cabinets for cereal, jumping when she heard Charlie's voice behind her.

"I don't really have much to eat. Sorry."

"No, don't worry about it." _Let me just try and restart my heart. _

"I can go to the store if you would like, just write down anything you want." He really was trying to make an effort. He had missed out on enough of her and didn't want her to go running off to California because he couldn't make the effort.

"Dad, really," she said, "There's no need to worry about it now, we can go shopping later."

"If you're sure…"

"I am. What do you normally eat?"

Normally he just drank coffee and had toast or a doughnut at the office.

"I've got eggs, bread, and milk in the fridge," he replied, avoiding her question.

Charlie sat himself at the table reading the paper, and occasionally glancing up at his daughter. He hadn't taken the chance to really just look at her since she was a child. She had grown taller over the years, the height taking away from her child roundness, and as she maneuvered around the kitchen, he could tell that she had become noticeably more graceful.

They sat at the rickety kitchen table in silence.

"Do you have a hammer and nails?" she asked resting her fork on her plate.

"Yeah, I should in the attic. What do you have in mind?"

"Just wanted to hang some photos if you don't mind."

He shook his head

She stood from the table and kissed his temple lightly before hopping up the stairs.

Charlie grunted but undeniably liked it. When she had been no more than 4 feet tall she always requested he bend down to her height so she could kiss him goodbye when he left for work. The small gesture reminded him of his little girl, the one that would skip everywhere, sing loudly, and run through the house covered in mud.

Bella climbed the few stairs that lead to the attic. She was surprised to find that it was rather tidy, with only two plastic clear boxes stacked on top of each other. The ceiling was just high enough to allow her to stand without hitting her head on the roof that was slanted at an odd angle.

Forgetting that she had come up for a hammer and nails she walked across the creaky wooden floors to look out the large circular window that displayed a view of the eastern side of their street.

She fumbled with the lock for a moment but finally got it before working to pry open the window that obviously had not been touched for years. The cool morning breeze blew in allowing for some of the musty air to circulate before blowing out.

Peeking her head out she realized that she could easily step onto the roof and admire her entire block. She had a perfect 360 view of the entire neighborhood from where she perched. She thought about how perfect of a place this would be to sit and admire birds with her binoculars. From where she stood, she noticed the houses surrounding theirs were much, much larger and upscale. She hadn't seen this last night when Charlie had driven her home, but now she noticed a large modern home made of chrome and glass, which was rather abnormal for a small town like Forks. Across from the modern home was a gorgeous estate that was made partly of brick and cream colored wood. As large as it was it reminded her of a fairy tale cottage nestled in the woods.

The wind continued to blow and she stepped back through the window shutting the door.

"Did you find what you needed?" Charlie had asked when she returned downstairs.

"Actually, Dad, I was wondering if you don't use the attic… maybe I could make it into my bedroom."

He was silent for a moment. "If you want to… but why? Your room is bigger."

"I don't know." She looked at her feet. "I just like it a lot. Maybe I could paint the walls and fix it up a bit. I think I would really like it. It would suit me."

Charlie shrugged. "Well if you want we could go to the hardware store, pick out some paint. I could do it in a couple of days."

Bella smiled happily. "Yes," she said, "I'd like that."

That evening when Charlie was at work Bella walked to the nearest grocery store, not knowing if she was allowed to drive Charlie's car.

Bella had tried not to make it too obvious how much they desperately needed to go grocery shopping, but a girl could only live on bran cereal for so long. She left a note on the counter, grabbed a few dollars and started walking towards the family owned store about a mile away.

Bella could cook if necessary, living with her mother had forced her to learn some basic survival skills, but she preferred the ease of cold cereal to the messier pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

It was a small family owned market mainly stocking produce, meat, and a random assortment of chips and bread.

She strolled the aisles placing all her essentials in her hand basket; Kashi cereal, yogurt, applesauce, and her guilty pleasure, canned peaches.

The girl at the check out counter was uncannily short. Had her features not been so angular, Bella would have thought she was a child, or a little person, even. The counter that came up to Bella's torso hit right below the small girl's bust, and she was standing on a small stepping stool. Bella squinted at the nametag that said, "Hi my name is Alice." The name seemed appropriate since she looked like she had consumed the magic shrinking potion and never returned back to normal.

"Your total is $13.98, Miss."

Bella dug in her pocket looking for her money. She searched both front and back pockets, only coming up with one five-dollar bill. She could have sworn that she had placed at least another ten dollars in her pocket before leaving the house. Or at least she had meant to.

"I think I'll have to come back," Bella said with a bit of frustration in her voice, "I guess I left my money on my desk."

Alice shrugged apologetically. She couldn't do anything about it. She didn't know this girl was, and was not going to lend her nine of her hard earned dollars to a stranger.

"Don't worry about it, I'll pay. No need for you to go back home." Bella turned behind her to see a petite woman offering her a kind smile.

"No I couldn't—"

"I insist. I'll count it as my good deed for the day."

"Well… thank you very much. That's very kind of you." Bella scanned the cart of the kind stranger, assessing what she was purchasing. Lots of beef and potatoes, which Bella had not expected. She was a slender woman wearing a floral Lilly Pulitzer dress and pearls. She looked like a person whose diet would consist of tea and finger sandwiches, not big slabs of red meat.

She saw Bella eyeing the items as Alice placed them into plastic bags.

Laughing breezily she addressed Bella's unspoken wonders. "I have a teenage son, and when it comes to food, he is a bottomless pit."

Bella smiled and nodded politely in understanding. As they left the store Bella once again thanked the woman and handed her the crumpled five-dollar bill.

"Absolutely not, it was my pleasure to help you out. I have had my fair share of forgetful moments."

Bella would have been suspicious had this been anywhere else, but this was Forks, and the social norms were different than that of a larger city.

"What's your name, Dear? I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before."

"Isabella Swan. I haven't lived on this side of town for too long but you may know my father—"

"Charles!" The woman said, the recognition evident in her expression, "You guys live on Porter Street."

Bella nodded.

"You father is such a nice man, the neighborhood always feels safe with him around. We live just around the corner on Woodlyn."

Woodlyn was the street lined with houses nestled deeply behind trees for privacy; Bella could make them out from the view on her roof. She couldn't possibly imagine how Charlie made the neighborhood feel "safe" when the most unbelievable crime committed in years was an illegal U-turn.

"Are you on your way home? Would you like me to drop you off?"

Bella shrugged. "I don't want to be a bother. I've already been a recipient of your generosity."

"Oh nonsense! I'm Esme Cullen by the way. If you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask. We are practically neighbors now."

Bella agreed not wanting her polite refusal to be seen as ungrateful.

Esme pointed to a shiny black Mercedes SUV. It was an upscale mom car, not a sketchy white van, so Bella had no suspicious feelings towards the generous woman.

She fumbled through her purse looking for her keys before beeping the car open.

Bella didn't know what it was specifically but the car smelled expensive. Maybe it was the scent of new leather and designer perfume, but it was obvious that Mrs. Cullen never had to spend much time worrying about money.

They spent the short car ride to Bella's home talking politely.

"What school are you attending, Bella?"

"Flintridge Preparatory." She didn't like the way the name sounded so pretentious.

"Oh that's a marvelous school. I'm sure you will like it. That's where my son has been going for a number of years now. Maybe you'll meet him." Esme smiled conspiratorially, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind the attention of a pretty, young girl like yourself."

Bella blushed, not knowing what to say.

Bella sat at the desk of her atrocious pink bedroom focused on the tasks she had set in front of her. After Charlie had agreed to her moving into the attic she had begun planning on how she wanted her new space set up.

She wanted something clean and simple that wouldn't distract her thoughts the way her overly decorated childhood bedroom did. If this school she would be attending was as academically rigorous as people had been saying, she didn't stand a chance getting any work done in the cluttered bedroom.

Yesterday Charlie had taken her to the hardware store and then to the nearest Ikea to pick out supplies and furniture for the attic. Bella had not requested anything ornate or fancy as he expected she would. She had chosen a simple egg shell colored paint for the walls, and picked up some spray paint and primer. Charlie had expected her to reach for a purple or an electric blue, but he was slowly starting to realize that his daughter was not a typical teenage girl. At Ikea she stuck to a few basics.; a side table, bookshelves, floor lamps, and a shag rug, all in varying shades of white.

"Don't you want anything else?" he'd asked her. He wasn't trying to compete with Phil, but he knew he could buy her a few more items if she had wanted them. She shook her head and stated that she had everything she could possibly need.

After a few ours of planning out how she was going to arrange her furniture a knock at the door had come. Since Charlie was out working she was responsible for getting it. She signed for the packaged addressed to her and took it up to her room, inspecting the brown cardboard wondering what it was. She hadn't ordered anything recently, and was hoping that it was not another generous gift from Phil or her mother.

It wasn't. She opened the box and found a typed letter on top.

_Thank you for choosing to order from The Uniform Store. Enclosed are the following items for Swan, Isabella, FlintridgePrepatory School for the Gifted. _

_-5 navy and black pleated skirts size 4_

_-5 white collard shirts size small_

_-2 blazers size 4_

_-1 wool coat size 4_

_- 6 pairs navy knee length socks_

_- 2 grey wool pocket sweaters size small_

_We advise you to check your package contents and hope you will find everything satisfactory._

_Sincerely, _

_The Uniform Store customer service_

She sighed before stripping down to her underwear to try on a uniform. When she looked at herself in the mirror she looked so _conservative. _Bella was by no means a loose young woman, and found it easy to respect rules and tradition, but even this uniform was a bit much.

The informational pamphlets that she had from Flintridge had examples of a student adhering to the dress code and a student who had rebelliously chosen to take another path, each with arrows pointing out the good or bad things about the student's attire. The example female student was a glowing Asian girl. Her hair was in a low librarian type ponytail, her skirt hung past her knees and her every button on her shirt was tightly fasted making her neck look slightly sausage like. This combined with the knee -high socks and the blazer had covered all skin except that of her face, neck, and hands.

Bella grabbed the box of pins of the desk where her glorious sewing machine sat, trying to figure out a way to inject a small amount of style that would not test the flexibility of the rules too much.

Pinning the skirt so it hit the tops of her knees, unbuttoning the top two buttons of the polo, and pushing up the sleeves on her blazer made her look a lot more normal. While she was far from looking like a backup dancer out of a Britney Spears music video, she didn't look like she was entering a sacred mosque either. She took of the blazer. With it still in hand she eyed her collection of fabrics and her sewing machine, trying to asses the possibility of pulling off the small project she had in mind. Since she had more than one of nearly everything she decided it couldn't hurt.

For the next four hours she was hunched over her table pulling out seams and stitching away furiously. This was one of the few ways that she would be able to lightly distinguish herself from the rest of her classmates.

As Bella prepared for her first day of school the next morning, she wished for her elbow length hair.

The brown curls that normally hung by her waist were now on the head of a child with cancer, and while Bella didn't regret the charitable donation, she sought the comfort of the familiar veil. It had been nearly a month since the big chop, and her hair was now just long enough to pull in a short spigot like ponytail.

Not wanting to do anything creative she let it air dry after her shower and then taken the easy road out with a knit cap. One of the few things she was able to appreciate about the otherwise identity stealing uniform was how easy getting dressed now was. Her options were limited between five identical plaid skirts and polo shirts.

When she walked into the kitchen Charlie was reading the local paper and drinking a cup of coffee. He looked quite dapper in his police uniform.

"Do you know an Esme Cullen?" she'd asked him as she poured a bowl of cereal

"Yeah. Carlisle's wife. They are nice people... why do you ask?"

"She gave me a ride home from the grocery store."

"Don't you have your drivers license?" Charlie scratched his mustache trying to remove any crumbs that might have gotten stuck from the bagel he had consumed earlier.

"Yes, but I didn't know if I was allowed..."

"You can always borrow the car if I'm gone. In fact, I was expecting you to drive yourself to school today. I should have told you earlier. I don't want you walking the streets alone."

Bella laughed, and then stopped quickly not wanting to be rude. Did he seriously think the chances of her getting hurt around here were high? She giggled to herself as she imagined getting mugged by an old lady pushing a walker.

Bella was touched at her father's concern.

As Charlie walked out the door Bella took a novel and read as she chewed her whole grain cereal. She was reading _To Kill a Mockingbird_, a classic she had read years ago, but had rediscovered in one of the cardboard boxes that was cluttering her room.

When the clock on the oven read 7:30 she rinsed the cereal bowl and placed it on the top rack of the dishwasher. Slipping her book into the small front pocket, she grabbed the house and car keys out of the kitchen bowl before locking the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

The Sound of Your Voice

Chapter 5

Edward looked at himself once more before exiting his room.

He walked through the large kitchen expecting to grab a bowl of Coco Puffs, but it was obvious his mother had other intentions for him. She was hopping back and forth between the stove, fridge, and sink preparing pancakes, bacon, waffles eggs, fruit salad, crepes, and hollandaise sauce for what looked like eggs benedict.

Anyone who saw her in those would have thought she was June Cleaver's younger sister. Her hair was in a French twist, a yellow, ruffled, gingham apron was tied around her waist, and she even had the pearls.

_Oh fuck._

He knew what she was trying to do. She did this on the first day of every school year, and every year, Edward prayed she would drop it.

The first day back to Flintridge Preparatory for the Gifted had always been a particularly tough pill for him to swallow. His mother always tried to pep him up and convince him that this year would be great, and that his differences would not make him stand out.

Managing to keep his profanities to himself he would always eat her breakfast, allow her to straighten his tie, and kiss him goodbye. Just as traditional as this little morning routine was the afternoon routine, where he'd enter the house slamming the door and briskly walk to his room without saying a word to his parents.

Esme set a plate full of food down in front of him with a hopeful look. Making a question mark and bringing her right thumb to the bottom of her left fist, she'd asked her son question, hoping the good food would ease his irritation.

Edward rolled his eyes.

_Here we go again_

"I do not want a learning assistant." He said the words slowly trying to pronounce them correctly so his mother would understand him with clarity.

She shrugged her shoulders in a defeated manner. There was only so much she and Carlisle could do.

Sending him to a school like Flintridge had been one of their few choices. Edward was intelligent, but he needed the small prep school because it was the only place in Forks where the class sizes weren't overwhelming, and he'd have a chance at learning without assistance.

She knew her son had a problem with accepting help from others. Even when he still had his hearing he was so independent as a child insisting to bathe himself, learning to read early, tying shoes before he even grew out of his own light up Velcro sneakers.

Up until that trip, and then the day he came back home from the hospital eight years ago without hearing, much of that freedom and independence had been so unfairly snatched from his hands. She turned her back refusing to let any tears escape from her eye while he was present.

Instead she scrubbed down the marble counters as he finished eating and put the skillet to soak in the farmers sink before turning around to face him with a large smile. She kept her thumb, index finger, and pinkie up on her right hand.

"I love you."

He nodded, not bothering to return the message. Deep down he knew that his bitterness was eating away at him and even starting to show to the people who deserved it least. His mother was the kindest person he knew. The most forgiving, kind, understanding person that could possibly walk the earth, and she was wasted on him.

It seemed that at every turn Edward grabbed onto any opportunity that allowed him to seem stronger and more capable of standing on his own two feet without anyone's assistance. Esme understood this, and while she was not happy with it, stomping on any bit of dignity Edward felt he possessed was not going to help either of them cope with the difficulties life had handed them.

Before leaving, Esme handed him his lunch and what looked to be a styrofoam takeout box. He curiously glanced inside before giving her a questioning look. He had already eaten breakfast why did he need more to go?

"For Jasper," she said responding to his unasked question.

He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and walked out of the house, picking up the keys that were on the table near the entry door.

Edward placed his backpack on the passenger seat, happy to be back in his car. Lately he had had nowhere to go so it had, for the most part, sat unused in the driveway for the last week. It wasn't anything fantastic just a forest green 2002 Jeep Cherokee that had belonged to his grandfather before he passed. It was clean and well taken care of, but by looking at it anyone could tell that it was an older model. Though his parents probably could afford to buy him a Range Rover or some other shiny foreign car, they had given him this. As wealthy as they were, they did not see the sense of buying a teen driver a pricey vehicle. That, and at the time Edward had gotten his license, college was only a few years away, so it hadn't made sense to invest in a quality car anyways.

But Edward didn't care. The act of driving was empowering. He had the choice. He made the decisions. No one asked him if he needed a helper to complete his right hand turn. It was all him.

As he drove down the street making the appropriate turns to get to his destination, he fumbled with the stereo system trying to find a song with a bass strong enough where he'd be able to feel the vibrations in his seat. As he pulled into the Whitlock's driveway he gave up deciding that he'd allow Jasper to chose the music for the ride to school.

Jasper knew to be outside and waiting or Edward would honk the annoying high-pitched car horn repeatedly, and without guilt since he couldn't hear it.

Moving Edward's book bag to the floor and sliding into the passenger seat, Jasper bumped fists with Edward who then handed him the food.

"From my mom," he signed

Jasper opened the container suspiciously, then smiled.

"Oh, holy Mother Theresa," he leaned his head over the food and took a big whiff. He turned to face Edward, "I am in love, and asking for your blessing to marry your mother."

Edward frowned

Jasper wrapped bacon and sausage in syrup covered pancake and took a bite then groaned. The look on his face was orgasmic. "Oh Esme, honey, you've done it again. I'm most defiantly in love." He licked his fingers in a suggestive manner.

Edward moved his hands quickly. "She's my mother," he signed.

Mouth too full to speak Jasper responded by signing, "I know you lucky bastard, I wish I had come out of her uterus if it means food like this every morning."

Edward's face was horrified. He couldn't take any more of this morning conversation when his best friends head was clouded with the drug like food of his mom's cooking. He put the car in reverse and began driving to school.

For the longest time Edward had wished he were Jasper Whitlock. He had an effortlessly cool style to him that people naturally gravitated to. Girls often would wind themselves around Jasper asking him to say hot things like "You're sexy," and "Can I have your number?" in sign language. He never fell for that kind of bull shit the female Flintridge population fed him, but still just the fact that he had the option made little parts of Edward jealous. In eighth grade Edward and Jasper had, in fact, been mortal enemies until the day that he had confessed to Edward that living with his deaf mother could sometimes be times just as lonely as being the deaf one, and Edward learned that the life of Jasper wasn't all peaches and sugar.

It was the most classic case of how money couldn't buy happiness.

At school it was as things had never changed over the three month period that everyone had parted ways for days of sunny vacation getaways and afternoon filled with nothing but TV and video games.

Not too long after arriving Edward and Jasper separated. Not out of embarrassment of each other, Jasper had tried to include Edward in the conversation around them as more and more people arrived and gathered in the quad, but Edward was not up for it. He was not interested in the gossip about the Stanley sisters miraculous beauty transformations made possible with the assistance of the nip-nip tuck-tuck surgeon. He could care less about who was banging whom over break. And he defiantly was not interested in the gratuitous—mostly false—accounts of Mike Newton's escapades with bodacious Latin women while he was in Mexico. That's why with a quick, discreet nod to Jasper he left in search of less mind numbing activities.

He walked down the hallway making two lefts and a right to the band and orchestra room. Often times Edward would finish his lunch early to escape to this paradise. On particularly rough days he would ditch P.E. classes to clear his mind with soothing movements of lithe, graceful fingers dancing over ivory piano keys.

He checked his watch, the one his father had given to him for Christmas, before entering the room. He had fifteen minutes before the Back to School Assembly started, fifteen minutes to explore the crevices of his mind.

When he entered he noticed Alice Hale in the corner of the room cleaning and polishing many instruments. He was glad she was not playing for it would be rude to barge in and flood the room with music, music he couldn't even hear.

He didn't know much about Alice, besides the basic facts. She was unconventionally petite, uber Christian, and at Flintridge on a scholarship. The only bit of superfluous information he really knew was that her musical talents were extensive. While he could not hear her play the cello, bass, flute, or violin, it was obvious from the facial expression of the music teacher, Mrs. Pixton, that her talent was a divine gift to the ears, only to be justified as something sent down from the heavens. Edward didn't have trouble believing this because he could see her technique; her posture, her finger position, the slight swaying motions as she played. Although Edward chose to limit his musical talents to the piano, he had a vast array of musical knowledge—vast enough to pick up on these small details.

Often times he wondered why she never played for an audience. He knew she never played in the pit during musicals, never performed at talent shows, or even in the many music clubs around campus.

On many occasions when they had both ditched the difficulties of school life for the solace music offered, she had plonked some sheet music in front of Edward, not wanting to hog the room to herself, but not willing to give up on her desire to escape to another world through music. Yet throughout the many years that they had done this they hadn't spoken a word, just giving each other the occasional nod, or a signal that one of them liked the piece enough to play it again. Out of the many things Edward longed to hear—the sound of his mother's laugh, his father's voice, a thunderstorm—the music they made in that room was at the top.

Today Edward wasn't feeling anything in particular so he just strung together parts of songs switching between the different melodies of classical and more modern pieces. Alice continued with her housekeeping enjoying the rich sound of the grand piano until the Bell rang signaling she needed to go. When Alice made her way to the door Edward lifted on hand off they keys to inspect his watch that was unfortunately telling him he had to leave this peaceful reverie for the company of people he didn't like.

He sat through the uneventful assembly just watching the behavior of his classmates, rather than paying attention to what was taking place on stage. He observed Doug picking his nose, Henry sleazily rubbing his palm on some girl's upper thigh, and the Stanly sisters whispering heatedly to each other.

People were not joking when they had gossiped about the twins getting a little nip and tuck over the break. Jessica and Lauren looked like Barbie's shipped straight from Mattel factory. They both looked noticeably slimmer, their noses much straighter, and their breasts were spilling from the fitted polo shirts that were completely unbuttoned.

They looked like walking advertisements for sex, more accurately they looked like walking advertisements for sex blow up dolls. _A little air here and a blow there is all you need for an endless night of pleasure…_

Edward found the changes atrocious and appalling. They had been fairly normal and attractive people to start with, that was if you were into the whole blonde bimbo thing. He had imagined the loss of his virginity on multiple occasions. The girl in the fantasy had brown or strawberry blond curls that would graze the top of her ass when she tilted her head back in pleasure. Usually she was faceless and the details of their passion changed from daydream to daydream, but the one thing Edward did know was that the girl from his dreams was real. Real woman. Not a plastic pornography-eque type girl.

As the rest of the school day continued, it became apparent that no one would be doing anything productive in class. Today was all about writing paragraphs of what students did over the summer, going over the syllabus and expectations, and receiving a list of all the supplies the classes required.

He did not find himself enjoying any class until art came. The teacher introduced himself quickly.

"I'm Richard, your visual art teacher for the year. Paints are here, canvases there, other supplies over there." He pointed quickly around the room. "As seniors your first assignment is to paint or draw something, with the inspiration being something from this school. Anything really. Now get to work."

Finally a teacher that didn't bullshit around with his time. Edward's classmates scattered and it became apparent that there were not many people whose presence he enjoyed in this class.

There were two massive, thick wooden tables in the room, and a small, dinky one that could fit three or four people comfortably. One of the large table was occupied by oil and chalk pastels, acrylic and oil paints, markers, sharpies, different verities of paper and much more. No one sat at this table because there was no room. The seats around the other large table were being occupied by more vapid group of students like Jessica, Lauren, Eric, Mike, and their minions.

Edward was happy to see that there was space for him at the smaller table, only occupied by two quite girls. He was glad because he would rather have sat on the floor than sat anywhere near Jessica's table.

He recognized one of the girls at the table, Angela. She was nice and usually kept to herself. He didn't know who the other girl was. She had short brown hair and skin so pale it was nearly transparent. She was pretty but simple. No extraordinary definable features.

He sat and began thinking about what things inspired him at this creativity stifling school. His eyes passed over the rowdier table, noticing how everyone's mouth seemed to be moving a mile a minute. Where was the teacher? He looked around and saw that Richard was sitting at a chair with a sketchbook in his lap and headphones in his ears, and obviously was not going to do anything about the wild antics of his less civilized classmates. Jessica was jutting her chest out, capturing the attention of the males on her side of the table, while Lauren had "accidentally" dropped many paint brushes, and was taking her sweet time to pick them up.

Edward walked over to the supply table collecting 4 canvases, many brushes, and a palette he covered with browns, black, blues, reds, pinks, and purples. He smiled at his clever project idea knowing it wouldn't come without a lot of harsh criticism. His smile widened and his enthusiasm grew exponentially.

By the end of the class he had gotten the basic shapes down onto the canvas before he hid them in a corner of the room where no one would be bothered to look. If anyone did get a bit curious, they probably would be unable to understand what it was with its unconventional shapes.

The rest of the school day continued on in an uneventful blur. At lunch he sat silently next to Jasper who was engaging in an animated discussion with Jake, the Native American kid, who made up most of the minority population in the class.

"Pirates are so much better than ninjas," Jake said

"That's total bull shit. A ninja is smart and has had weaponry training."

"Since when? They just wear black leotards and descend from the ceiling? Pirates have a tactical advantage with hook arms."

"Do not," Jasper responded heatedly, "They have peg legs. How can they run with peg legs? Have you tried running with a peg leg?"

"No. Have you?"

"No," Jasper conceded, "and besides if they were so much greater they wouldn't have a need to run they would stay in one place and fight like a man."

After following this exchange Edward stopped bothering to make out the words they were saying. He instead put his attention on the lunch his mom had handed him that morning—2 turkey sandwiches, coleslaw, a bag of chips, 4 juice boxes, an apple, and 3 chocolate chip cookies—all of which Edward ate happily, slapping the hands of Jasper and Jake who tried to thief a cookie when they thought he wasn't looking.

Now that he was a senior and there was no one older to pick on him Flintridge Prep wasn't as unappealing. He still didn't like many of the teachers who thought speaking louder or treating him like a dog would be of any help to him, but in general the suck factor of school had gone down. After classes he dropped Jasper off, and then headed home.

When he walked through the door his mother came at him kissing him on the forehead.

"How was school?" She signed.

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally before heading up to his room.

Esme smiled, happy to have gotten some kind of response instead of a door slammed in her face like usual.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bella was not an antisocial person. In fact, when placed in the right setting, she could be described as spectacular conversationalist.

While one observing her might label her a loner, or surmise that she was a social outcast, really, the truth was that she was one of the few people content when left alone with her thoughts.

It was for this reason that she found her first day at Flintridge Academy simple. She felt no need to ingratiate herself with the students, and she felt no need to sit next to the right people in her classes. Bella was generally happy with anyone's company so long as they didn't require useless conversation 24/7.

In first period Physics she ended up sitting next to a girl named Lauren. Lauren's boobs were rather large, and her waist was rather small, and her sweater was abnormally fitted, but Bella could look past these characteristics which most would use to label Lauren as a skank.

Lauren, Bella learned was nice—peppy but nice—and Bella appreciated the kind gesture of talking to the new girl, and therefore didn't mind too much that Lauren rambled on and on without breathe.

Bella found it so fascinating how intelligent everyone in the class of 14 was. Even Lauren. She didn't expect the girl who was talking about high and low lights earlier to be the one skillfully answering questions about the ways physical theory differs from a mathematical theorem. But that is what you got when you attended a school for the gifted.

When the class was over she collected her materials and began to ponder how well the school year was going to go for her. While she could keep up, it wasn't an easy task, and this was only the beginning of the year. The feeling of inadequacy was starting to arise—a feeling she had never been familiar with before when she was the star of every class at her old school.

Back before Phil entered the picture, Bella was rolling along quite nicely at the local public school. As much as Renee desired to send Bella more academically challenging, the 30,000 dollar tuition was out of budget and they hadn't qualified for financial aid. Her subdue nature, combined with her intelligence made her a favorite among students and teachers. Student would frequently ask for her assistance because it was always clear she knew the material well, but was never a condescending kiss ass like Eric Yorkie. Teachers always wrote glowing comments on her report card about her ability to apply information, and her outstanding behavior in class.

Bella had a feeling that few people would be asking her for help with homework and that this would be the only year where there would be no great academic achievement for teachers to comment on.

By her lunch period Bella had acquired a new 5 foot tall shadow. It was the grocery store girl, Alice. It seemed that for the most part their schedules lined up, and Alice had taken it upon herself to sit next to Bella in English, French, and Contemporary Ethical Issues. Without any hesitation, any invitation, or any words Alice was beside Bella in all her classes and now lunch. It was odd to say the least since no teacher had an assigned seating policy. It was even more odd because Alice hadn't even taken the liberty to adhere to social norms with an introduction and a handshake.

But Bella started to guess that Alice Last-Name-Unknown didn't really seem to be the kind of person to stick to any kind of social normality. Her short stature, too big uniform, and long, jet-black hair that hit her waist made her look like she was applying for a job at a convent.

Curios to see how long Alice would continue her silence, Bella focused on the novel in front of her as she ate her turkey on rye sandwich without a word.

When Bella returned home from school it was just past 5:30. She had chosen to stay past the last bell of the day and complete her homework in the school's impressive library. She was shocked to learn a high school in such a small town could boast such amenities as first edition copies of classic literature, and multiple sets of leather bound encyclopedias.

As she had opened the heavy wooden doors, she had been surprised to find many students sitting at the solid oak tables working. At her old school most students wouldn't have been able to point in the direction of the library, let alone be caught dead in it. There, the library was the place you went two days before a history paper was due. Bella was probably the only student at Forks High School that could easily navigate her way around the shelves or properly address the librarian. Obviously this was not the case at Flintridge. On the afternoon of the first day of class, students were working like it was the week before finals, making Bella wonder what the atmosphere would be like when finals did roll around.

Alice smiled to herself when Bella took a seat at the same library table. Alice didn't have any friends, so she was happy to see that someone was willing to tolerate her presence without any hesitation. Her parents had always tried to help her fix that, but they only managed to make her seem more pathetic—especially the last time. Alice didn't even want to think about _that time. _

Before Bella had completed her work Alice stood up, collected her items, and with a curt nod left the library to go home. As Alice left the building she wondered if the nod was too much. After all they weren't acknowledging each other. Alice didn't know Bella or her temperament and hoped the nod hadn't crossed their unofficial boundaries.

On her way home from school Bella passes Alice walking on the sidewalk and thought about stopping to ask her if she wanted a ride home. Not wanting to break their silent friendship that had come about that day she pressed her foot down on the accelerator, speeding home before the sky opened up and released the water it had been gathering.

After preparing dinner—a simple penne pasta and meat sauce—Bella washed the dishes, wiped down the counters, and put the leftovers in Tupperware before deciding to work her bedroom in the attic. Now that the walls were painted eggshell the room had an airy feel to it. The harsh smell of paint still lingered in the air but was noticeably better after being aired out for the last few days. The dark wooden floors were warm but provided a nice contrast to the light walls. Charlie had assembled the bookshelves and nightstands they had purchased from Ikea although she hadn't asked him to. But that was Charlie's way of showing his love. He never made grand gestures or proclamations. He just did small things to make sure the people he loved were well cared for. Maybe that's why Renee had such a hard time in their relationship. She had wanted excitement and romances that were meant for movies, and that just wasn't Charlie's style.

For the next few hours Bell occupied herself by rolling out her new white shag rug over the floorboards, reassembling her wrought iron bed frame against the main wall of the attic and hanging various silver picture frames in an well organized yet chaotic arrangement. The last task proved to be the most difficult, and took her three hours to complete as she stood at the wall with a tape measure, leveler, and pencil.

When she stood back to admire her work she was proud of what she saw, but frowned when she realized that out of the 7 picture frames that were hanging above her mattress free bed frame only three of them were filled. One with a picture of Bell and her mother, one of Charlie holding her as an infant, and the last one was the most recent. Taken at her mothers wedding, it was a black and white photograph capturing her and Phil dancing to the band right when Phil dipped her so low her hair nearly grazed the floor.

In her great neutrality had she missed out on friends, and high school experiences? Didn't most girls her age have bulletin boards overflowing with pictures of friends from school, memories from camp, images of boys they found attractive? Why didn't she have any of this? The thought was discouraging, and she couldn't stand to dwell upon it for much longer. Instead she put herself to work, hauling her mattress up the narrow stairwell, and making up her bed of crisp white linens and a thick down comforter—much needed for the cold weather of Forks.

As she lay in bed that night Bella listened to the faint whistle of the wind and decided she'd try to behave like a normal teenager for once. She'd converse with Lauren and she wouldn't ostracize herself at lunch by sitting in the corner with a novel like she had done that day. She needed to create some fuzzy adolescent memories while she still could.

The next day in Pysics, Lauren had pulled out a copy of US Weekly, and was asking Bella her opinion on who wore it best. "It says Nikki rocked the leather mini, but I feel like America must be blind because Kim obviously looks way better. What do you think? Bella? Bella?"

Bella had drifted off into her own thoughts again. She blushed at being caught drifting in the clouds, and instantly felt her face heat up. She pondered the question as she took off her rain coat. "Oh," she said. "I don't know. Nikki is wearing leather and glitter Normally that comes off as tacky, but she make it work here, so I have to go with her."

Lauren was pleased that Bella had contradicted her, and come up with a good reason for why Nikki Minaj should win who wore it best. Lauren may have been a bit ditzy sometimes, but she did appreciate origional thoughts.

Bella took out her homework, thankful that Lauren didn't seem to focus too much on the fact that Bella's body was there but mind wasn't. At the time she had been imagining a totally new color, one that no one had ever seen before, and she began to wonder what this mysterious color might look like Lauren had brought Bella back to reality with the glossy pages of the magazine.

At lunch Bella slipped into a seat Lauren had saved for her. Two completely different feelings tugged at Bella. This experience was not familiar to her, but it felt as though it should have been. She felt like she was a slightly too large body put into a skin a size to small. While it wasn't painful, it wasn't right, but Bella pushed the feeling away as she ate her pasta and neatly cut vegetable sticks while she listened to the conversation going on around her. A set of boys to her right were debating about communism.

"It's a great theory, but the fact is it just doesn't work."

"It could work in a utopian society," another said.

"I agree with Mark. Anyone who thinks communism is a good idea is bat shit nuts."

Another boy shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. He was the boy from art class Bella noticed.

As she listened to this exchange, Bella was unaware Alice was making her way over to the table they had shared yesterday. Upon seeing the empty seat, then glancing around the dining hall and noticing Bella next to Lauren, Alice was heartbroken. Today had been the first day in years she was excited for lunch knowing that she would have a companion to eat with, even if it was in silence.

What did Alice expect? Eventually Bella would pick up on the fact that there were more interesting dining companions. So just like years before Alice took a seat at the small table by herself

.

As Bella stepped outside into the student parking lot, she was reminded of how much she missed California Even if she had only spent a short amount of time there, her skin ached for the warm kiss of the sun. She pulled the hood of her jacket up as she walked to the black SUV. Fumbling for her keys she cursed to herself as the weather decided it would be a good idea to go from a light drizzle to a torrential downpour.

She eventually found her keys and opened the car door quickly tossing her book bag inside not caring that her texts had tumbled out.

She sat inside the car silently for a moment just taking in the sound of raindrops pounding against the windshield. If Renee was there, she would have been ecstatic.

While Bella preferred less precipitation, for her mother, rain was like Christmas morning. Renee would bake cookies (with store-bought dough), and when they were finished she would keep the oven on with its door open to heat up the small kitchen.

Bella turned on the heater and seatwarmers. She had only been caught in the rain for a few seconds but she was soaked. Missing her mother, she pulled out her phone and dialed.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you called." Her mothers chipper voice was a stark contrast to the atrocious weather.

"Hi, Mom."

"How's school going? I was going to call you yesterday, but Pil took me out on his boat, and he threw me overboard can you believe that? So now my phone is sitting somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific. I just got a new one a few hours ago."

"So are you having fun then?" Bella already knew the answer, and while she was happy for her mother, Bella still wanted to be needed.

"Of course I'm having fun, not as much as if you were here, but I'm glad you are going to a good school and spending time with Charlie."

"School here is defiantly different."

"How are the boys? See anyone cute?"

"Mom…"

"I know, I know. My responsible little girl is far too focused for boys. They are probably all too nerdy anyway."

This statement made Bella throw her head back in laughter. "No mom, no boys I'm interested in."

Renee sighed. While she adored every strand of hair on her daughters head, she sometimes worried Bell was a little too sensible. Renee had never been forced to discipline her extremely level headed teenager. "Just promise me you'll try and make friends, have some fun, maybe even do something a little reckless."

"I can't guarantee anything," Bella said, "But I'll try."

"That's all I ask. You know I love you, right?"

"Yes, Mom. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay, sweetie. Bye.

Bella hung up the phone, put the keys in the ignition and backed out of the parking lot. For a moment she pushed her foot on the gas pedal going 12 miles over the speed limit—trying something a little reckless as her mother advised. She didn't like it, and shifted down gears to slow the vehicle.

As she slowed down and image in her rear view mirror caught her attention.

A four foot six, sopping wet, black haired figure pulling along a large Jansport backpack. Bella slowed down and pulled close to the sidewalk. She rolled down a window and had to shout to be heard over the rain.

"You aren't really planning to walk home in weather like this are you?"

Alice wasn't expecting for this to be their first exchange.

"I—I forgot my umbrella at home," Alice stammered, still standing in the rain. Bella leaned over the console and opened the passenger door.

She hesitated for a moment before hoisting up her large backpack, and climbing in. It was a good thing Charlie's car had runners or getting in would have been comically challenging for Alice.

After she closed the door they were shielded from the noise of the storm.

"So where to?" Bella asked.

"My house isn't too far. It's just up on Woodlyn."

Bella knew that was the road the Cullen's lived on, the street visible from her bedroom wind, but she didn't say anything s she put the car into drive. This was awkward for both of them. Now that they had exchanged words, they both felt some sort of social obligation to say more. When they hadn't spoken they felt like they were in the comfortable silence of a stranger. Kind of like the way people conduct themselves in elevators, airplanes, or fitness centers. You knew someone was near you, but no one ever felt the need to say anything.

The car ride was spent in silence, both of them thinking of what to say, but before either of them had come up with an idea Alice pointed to a driveway. "This is my house." Bella recognized it as the large modern structure she'd noticed the first time she stepped onto the roof from the attic. It was all glass, concrete, and shiny panels of wood, it looked far too cool and futuristic to be in Forks.

"Do you want to come in?" Alice asked.

"Why?"

"To dry off. And hangout… for a while. I don't know. We are friends, aren't we?" Alice scratched the back of her neck self consciously, worried that Bella would say no. But Alice was pleasantly surprised when Bella smiled, nodded, and removed the keys from the ignition.

"Of course we are," she replied.

And that was the beginning of Alice and Bella's not so silent friendship.


End file.
